


lock and load (baby, i got your back)

by Slutspeare



Series: Bodyguard AU [1]
Category: King Falls AM (Podcast)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Badassery abounds, Bodyguard AU, F/M, Hurt Ben Arnold, It's not what you think based on the summary, M/M, Major Character Injury
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-26
Updated: 2020-03-26
Packaged: 2021-02-28 16:34:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,270
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23320282
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Slutspeare/pseuds/Slutspeare
Summary: It's not that Ben is worried about how he should kill Sammy, it's that he doesn't want to.
Relationships: Ben Arnold & Sammy Stevens, Ben Arnold/Emily Potter, Sammy Stevens/Jack Wright
Series: Bodyguard AU [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1677061
Comments: 7
Kudos: 61





	lock and load (baby, i got your back)

**Author's Note:**

> I'm always a slut for a bodyguard AU, and a slut for Sammy and Ben.

As he gets punched in the stomach for a third time, Ben thinks, _This would be a lot easier if you weren’t so fucking short._

He is though, which is also why he’s able to duck under the mercenary’s next punch instead of blocking it. Instead, he sweeps the guy’s leg. The man falls back, and Ben doesn’t even wait for him to hit the ground before he’s diving for his gun, bringing it up level and pulling the trigger. His enemy receives the bullet between his eyes, just as he moves to get to his feet.

The man slumps, and Ben exhales. He clambers to his feet and slides his gun into its holster.

“Stevens?” he calls softly, looking around for his client.

There’s movement in his peripherals and he whirls, hand on the revolver, before he sees that it’s just Stevens, climbing out from where he stashed himself during the fight. Ben gives him a once-over, but the man looks unharmed. His long hair is falling out of its ponytail and he looks extremely uneasy, but not terrified out of his mind, which is more than Ben was expecting from him.

“Are you alright?” Stevens asks.

Ben blinks. It’s not often that clients are concerned for his safety. Of course, immediately ruins the moment by word vomiting.

“Me? Oh yeah, perfectly fine. I mean, I’m not thrilled that they found us that quickly, cause that’s gonna make my job harder, but I love a challenge. Not that I love the fact that people are trying to kill you. That’s obviously not great. But like, don’t worry. I’m gonna keep you out of danger. Cause I’m good at my job. Which. Um. Maybe you don’t think, because I just had a firefight, but like. It’s fine. I mean, did you see that shot? Epic, righ—”

“BEN!” Stevens yells.

Ben’s brain almost doesn’t register the sound of the gun cocking, but his body does, because he’s turning when the gun fires, which is the only reason the bullet misses his heart and lodges in his upper arm instead.

_Oh_ , Ben thinks before the pain tears him away, _Shoot_.

* * *

_TWELVE HOURS EARLIER_

“Samuel Stevens,” Emily says, thumping a file onto Ben’s desk.

“Huh?” Ben says then mentally kicks himself. He hates sounding stupid in front of Emily Potter.

For her part, Emily just smiles. “Your new assignment.” She places a hand on Ben’s arm that makes his heart leap. “Get to work, Benny.”

“Yeah, _Benny_ ,” Pete Meyers croones from his desk as soon as their boss is out of earshot.

Ben flips him off and opens the file.

_Subject Name: Samuel Stevens_

_Gender: Male_

_Age: 37_

_Case Summary: Stevens has been ordered into custody by CIA Agent Kathryn Lynch after being confirmed as a target of the Science Institute because of connections to L. WRIGHT (missing) and J. WRIGHT (deceased)._

_Assignment: Agent to take Stevens to a private location which will be revealed when subject is in within fifteen miles._

_Escape Clause: If captured by the Science Institute, Agent is required to employ Escape Clause 2749._

_Agent Assigned to Case: Benjamin Arnold._

_Signed,_

_M. H._

_Director of Bond Corp._

Ben sits back in his chair, staring blankly at the file. Jack Wright and the SI had been a hot topic at work lately, and Ben had heard all about it through the grapevine. Wright had been a journalist, who stumbled upon a machine built by the Science Institute. No one knew what it did, except Wright’s sister, Lily, as Jack had stumbled in on a live vlog she was doing, and announced that he would be revealing the information live the next day.

It never happened. Wright didn’t show to his own press conference. His apartment was found ransacked, the only trace of Wright being a pool of his blood on the floor. Lily was later taken off the street, which was confirmed by multiple eyewitnesses. CIA agents had been working on the case for weeks, but hadn’t come up with any leads.

Until now, apparently. Ben didn’t know what Stevens had to do with the Wright siblings, but if Escape Clause 2749 was involved, it had to be serious.

Ben had only had EC2749 in one other case, and he hadn’t used it. It was one of the most intense clauses in any agent contract, and if employed, usually meant the deaths of both the agent and their subject. Whoever Samuel Stevens was, the presence of EC2749 proved that he was of major importance, and that Ben would have to be immediately and intently on his game.

Because EC2749 meant that, if captured, Ben’s job was no longer to protect his subject.

It was to kill him.

* * *

_PRESENT_

Ben struggles back to consciousness with a groan.

He’s cold, and sort of damp. He’s lying down, and there’s light pressing in on his eyelids. A shuffling comes from somewhere to his right, but everything else is strangely silent.

Ben shifts, and, _oh yeah_.

His arm hurts like fuck.

Ben’s eyes fly open as he cries out. He shoots upright, clutching his arm, and is almost immediately hit with a wave of dizziness that slams into his brain and sends him reeling again.

He doesn’t hit the ground, though. Instead, he finds himself caught in someone else’s arms, supported by a broad chest that rumbles gently against his back as the person speaks soothingly to him.

It takes a moment for him to recognize the speaker, but eventually the pair dulls enough for his ears to make out Stevens’ voice.

“Shh,” he’s saying, “Just breathe, Ben. It’s alright. You’re going to be okay.”

“Mmm.” Ben blinks foggily. “Wha’?”

“You got shot,” Stevens tells him. “Obviously. Haven’t been out for too long, but you are losing blood. I tried to bandage it, but…”

Ben turns his head muzzily. There’s an unfamiliar necktie wound around his bicep, but it’s already becoming saturated with blood. It makes him a little nauseous, so he looks away.

It’s only then that he realizes that he’s essentially being cradled in Stevens’ arms. And as nice as his body thinks that it, his pride won’t stand for it. He struggles to sit up, Stevens keeping a hand on his back for support.

“Thanks,” Ben says. His arm throbs, but he ignores it in favor of looking around them.

They’re obviously in a cell, but it’s not a dark musty room with bars for the door. Instead, it’s a pristine white space, surrounded by thick plexiglass, and lit with bright fluorescents that are starting to give Ben a headache.

“Science Institute,” Ben mutters, “Fuck.”

“Yeah,” Stevens agrees. Ben notes that he doesn’t sound frightened. His tone is leaning closer to anger.

“Don’t worry,” Ben tells him, gingerly picking himself up off the ground. “I’ll get us out of here, I’ll—”

His vision whites out and he swears, stumbling forward and catching himself against the glass, somehow managing to stay on his feet. When his eyesight returns, he sees the bloody handprint he left.

“Maybe you should sit down.” Stevens is at his elbow again.

“No time,” Ben says, closing his eyes and breathing in a slow rhythm. Somehow, he thinks of Emily. “I gotta… ugh…”

“Okay,” Stevens says, “Down we go.” He grabs Ben’s good arm and lowers him back to the floor, leaning him against the glass.

Even just being off his feet decreases the dizziness exponentially. “Thanks, Stevens.”

“Sammy.”

“What?” Ben cracks an eye to look at the other man.

“I hate Stevens,” Stevens—Sammy—explains. “Please. Just call me Sammy.”

“Kay,” Ben says, “Sammy. How’d we get here?”

Sammy sits across from him, crossing his legs and resting his elbows on his thighs. “You got shot and collapsed, and SI agents just swarmed out of. Everywhere, basically. They grabbed me, and once they realized you weren’t dead, they snatched you too. Not sure why they didn’t kill you, to be honest.”

“I am grateful,” Ben mumbles.

“Me too,” Sammy says. “They tossed us into the back of a van. That’s when I tied up your arm. And then they brought us here.”

“Any idea where we could be?”

“We weren’t driving for more than fifteen minutes, so we can’t be too far from town.”

“Good,” Ben says, “That’s good.” He frowns. “They took my gun.”

“Yeah,” Stevens says. “But I’m sure you expected that.”

Ben nods.

Sammy doesn’t look too worried. “You’ll get us out of here, like you said.” He gives Ben a wry grin. “It was a good shot.”

Ben can’t help himself. He giggles, and it turns into a snort, which turns into a hiss as his laugh jostles his arm.

But Sammy is chuckling along with him, so that makes it alright.

* * *

_EIGHT HOURS EARLIER_

Emily finds him in the armory.

“I’m so sorry, Benny,” she says, biting her lip and wringing her hands. Ben is so overcome with affection for her that he almost forgets to be confused.

“What are you sorry for?”

“If I had known what the assignment was,” Emily says, “I never would have allowed M to sign you on.”

Ben exhales heavily and puts down the gun that he’s just finished assembling. He braces himself against the table.

This seems to distress Emily more. She steps forward, looking as though she’d like to hug him. “Are you… is this going to be okay?”

Ben looks up at her, mustering a smile. “I’ll be fine, boss. I’m a big boy.”

Emily smiles back, shakily. “Big is a strong word for it.” Her brows knit again, and Ben hates that he’s making her look like that. “I can… I can say that you’re unfit for duty. I’ll sign off on it. You don’t have to…”

Ben sets his jaw. “No. I’ll be fine, Emily. I can handle it.”

Emily sighs. “I’m sure you can, Benny. I just don’t want you to have to.”

“It was a long time ago.” Ben turns away, his throat working up and down. “I’m… it’s not _okay_ , nothing ever will make it _okay_ , but I can do this. In fact—” He straightens to look himself in the eye in the metallic reflection of the weapons cabinet. “—I want to do it.”

“You don’t have anything to prove,” Emily says softly.

“Yes, I do,” Ben says, and shuts his locker.

* * *

_PRESENT_

“So,” Sammy says, “How long have you been with Bond Corp?”

Ben is surprised by the question, as he increasingly is with almost everything that comes out of Sammy’s mouth. “You know the Corp?”

Sammy raises an eyebrow. “I’m the one who hired you, didn’t I?”

Ben shifts so he’s sitting up a little straighter. “I thought the CIA hired us.”

“On my suggestion,” Sammy says, “You deal with the Science Institute. CIA were just going to hand me off to witness protection, but I can’t…” He shakes his head. “I’m not done being me yet.”

Ben wants to ask him about that, but the look on Sammy’s face suggests that he won’t get much information out of him. “I’ve been with the Corp for seven years now, I think.”

“Really?” Sammy tilts his head. His hair flops in front of his eyes. It’s a little endearing. “You can’t be more than… twenty-six, I’d say.”

“I’m _twenty-nine_ ,” Ben says. “I graduated college, found myself in loads of debt, went straight into the military, and was recruited for the Corp six months later.”

“Is that usual?”

“No,” Ben says, “Most agents are older than I was when they begin, or at least more experienced.”

“Why you?”

Ben shrugs, trying to sound modest. “I had spunk, apparently.”

“Yeah, I can tell,” Sammy says.

Ben smiles at the ceiling. “I’m also a crack shot.”

Sammy whistles appreciatively. “You did get that guy between the eyes with no hesitation.”

“That one was easy,” Ben tells him, trying not to sound too eager. Marksmanship is one of his favorite subjects. “I’ve hit a target dead-on, hundred yards away. They were training me to be a sniper in the army, but I couldn’t sit still long enough to keep from being detected.”

Sammy laughs. It’s quickly becoming Ben’s favorite sound.

Then Sammy says, “Ever had anyone like me?”

The small well of warmth in Ben’s chest extinguishes. “What do you mean?”

“Science Institute?” Sammy asks, “Captured? Seems like a complete idiot? I don’t know.”

“No,” Ben says. He knows it came out a little too quick.

Before Sammy can say anything else, Ben struggles to his feet once again, ignoring how the room swims. “I gotta start finding a way out.”

Sammy looks at him from his place on the floor. “Ben, I don’t think—”

“I’m here to protect you,” Ben says. “Let me do my job.”

He circles the room, running his fingers along the wall.

“Ben—” Sammy says, just as Ben touches the doorframe.

He immediately staggers backward. The door hadn’t looked like much, but as soon as Ben’s skin comes in contact with it, an electric current fires, zapping his fingers. It doesn’t hurt as much as startle him, but that’s still enough.

“I wouldn’t do that, if I were you,” a voice says.

Ben whips around so fast his head spins, but he only sees Sammy.

“I’m not in there with you, Agent,” the voice says. Ben pays more attention this time, following the sound to a small speaker he can see embedded in one corner of the ceiling, next to a camera. “But I would like to advise you against touching the door again. The current is not up to its maximum level, but I assure you, it can get there.”

“Who are you?” Ben demands. He waits, but there is no answer.

“Can’t hear you,” Sammy says.

“What?”

“The cameras are visual only,” Sammy tells him. He’s examining his fingernails, as if they aren’t currently locked in a Science Institute cell. “They might be able to read your lips, but they can’t hear you. S’why I asked you stuff. If I thought they’d be able to get any information from our conversations, I wouldn’t have said anything.”

“How do you know that?” Ben asks.

Sammy gestures toward the camera with his head. “I recognize the brand. Visual only. It’s a good trick, them talking to you. Makes you think they can hear you as well, but they can’t.” He glares upward. “You’d think such a high-tech Institute would want all measures of surveillance, but they enjoy messing with people’s heads too much.”

Ben stares.

Sammy looks at him uncomfortably. “What?”

“Who _are_ you, Sammy Stevens?”

* * *

_TWO HOURS EARLIER_

“Mr. Stevens,” Herschel Baumgardner says, “This is Agent Benjamin Arnold. He’ll be in charge of getting you to your destination safely.”

“Call me Ben,” Ben says, stepping forward to meet his client.

Stevens takes his hand, and his grip is firm, but not overwhelming. Ben likes that. The rest of Stevens is just as unimposing as his handshake. He’s tall, much taller than Ben, but that’s not saying much. He has long sandy hair that is currently tied back into a ponytail. He’s wearing a heather colored suit and lavender tie, which isn’t the sort of outfit that Ben typically sees his clients in.

“Thank you,” Stevens says, and there’s another surprise. Ben is used to be considered hired muscle, not a real person.

“You have two hours to make rendezvous,” Herschel tells Ben. He doesn’t say anything else, but Ben already knows it.

Ben salutes Herschel, and turns to the sleek car that he had been assigned to drive them to the district where the safehouse would be.

“After you,” he tells Stevens.

Stevens opens his own car door.

* * *

_PRESENT_

It’s not that Ben is worried about how he should kill Sammy, it’s that he doesn’t want to.

As an agent at Bond Corp, he’s been taught about a hundred different ways to kill a man. Only sixty-seven of them require the use of a weapon.

He could kill Sammy Stevens right in this jail cell, with his bare hands. Even with only one of them, actually.

But then, he catches sight of the lavender tie still yanked tight around his arm, and he knows that he won’t do it.

Ben sighs heavily. _What kind of agent is he?_

“Are you okay?” Sammy asks. “Is it your arm again?”

He’s sitting further away from Ben now, but that’s mostly Ben’s choice. After his failed perimeter check, he sat down in the furthest corner of the cell, trying to figure out his next move.

“No,” Ben says. His arm is the least of his worries at this point. He looks up at the camera. “You sure they can’t hear us?”

Sammy nods.

Ben runs his good hand through his hair, feeling greasy. His shirt is pretty saturated with blood, even though the black he’s wearing keeps that hidden from sight. Still, it makes him feel unprepared and gross.

“How much do you know about your case?” Ben asks.

Sammy blows a breath out. His hair flutters in his face. “Is this about you not killing me yet?”

Ben twitches so violently that his arm flares with pain. He clutches at it. “ _You know about that_?”

Sammy shrugs. “I’m the one who put it in my contract.”

“Are you… suicidal, or something?” Ben demands.

“No,” Sammy says, “I just didn’t want the… the _Science Institute_ getting their hands on me. They’re not gonna use me.”

“What the fuck,” Ben says. At some point, he got to his feet, and he finds himself pacing like a caged animal. “What the fuck am I for, then?”

“I mean, obviously I’d prefer not to die,” Sammy says, folding his arms across his chest. “But if it’s a choice between being used against Jack, and dying, then I’m dying. I don’t care how.”

“Jack?” Ben asks. “You mean… Jack Wright.”

“Yeah,” Sammy says, “Of course. Jack.” Then he squints at Ben. “Wait, how much do _you_ know about my case?”

“Not a lot,” Ben admits. “They were pretty sparse in it. Just that you were somehow in connection with Jack and Lily Wright, and that if you… we… got captured, that I was supposed to kill you before the Institute could do whatever they do to you.”

Sammy laughs bitterly. “They’re not going to do anything to me. They need me alive, because they need Jack to come for me.”

Ben’s mind races. “Sammy… Jack is dead. Isn’t he?”

Sammy purses his lips, shaking his head so fast that more hair comes loose from the ponytail. “Jack’s not dead.”

“But… they found… blood.

Sammy scoffs. “Not enough to warrant a death.” He looks inordinately proud of this, somehow.

“So, you’re saying that Jack Wright _faked his death_ , and the Science Institute and you know that, but no one else does, and so you hired a secret agent to take you to safety and also kill you if you happened to get captured by the Science Institute so they wouldn’t use you as bait for Jack Wright. That’s what you’re saying.”

“Pretty much,” Sammy says.

Ben sits next to him, heavily. It’s only partially from shock. “Are you insane?”

“I’m not leaving Jack out there on his own,” Sammy says. “He was at the safehouse. We were supposed to meet there, and formulate a plan to get Lily out.”

Ben groans, bobbing his head down to rest between his knees.

“What?” Sammy asks defensively.

“I really had you pegged all wrong,” Ben said. “No wonder you’re not scared. You know more about this situation than I do.”

“Sorry,” Sammy says, and he sounds genuinely apologetic. “I thought that they would have debriefed you more.”

“That’s Merv for you,” Ben says. “Notoriously tight-lipped.”

“I was scared, though,” Sammy says quietly. “I am scared.”

“Me too,” Ben says before he can stop himself. “I mean… sorry. I’m supposed to be protecting you.”

Sammy nudges him. “Doing a good job of that one.”

“Shut up,” Ben says. “Wait, if you were already planning to die, why haven’t you… killed yourself, yet?”

“I couldn’t,” Sammy admits. “I can’t. I don’t know if I have that in me. Besides, this might be my only chance to get information about Lily. See if the SI have her. And…”

“And?” Ben prompts, after a moment.

“You,” Sammy says. “I couldn’t leave you with them. Not all alone. Not injured.”

“Oh.” Ben falls quiet. He’s only known Sammy for two hours, but he already knows that he would die for him without a second thought. Maybe that’s the agent in him, but Ben thinks it mostly because Sammy is one of the best people he’s ever met in his life. “Do you have a plan, then?”

“Sort of.” Sammy’s brows scrunch together on his forehead. “I have like. Half of one. Still calculating some stuff.”

“Right.” Ben shakes his head, an incredulous-sounding laugh escaping from between his lips. He closes his eyes. He hasn’t said anything about it yet, but he’s feeling increasingly more light-headed.

“Why haven’t you killed me yet?” Sammy asks then.

Ben swallows. “Short answer, or long answer?”

“Which one’s the truth?”

“They both are,” Ben says. “Short answer is that I like you. You’re a good person, and I think that the world needs more good people in it. I’d hate to take one of them out of it.”

Sammy is quiet for a moment. Ben can almost feel the small smile that he’s giving to the floor. “And the long answer?”

Ben bites his lip and pulls his arm closer to his chest. He takes a moment.

“One of my earlier assignments… I was still pretty young, still pretty new. I had another client… Tim Jensen. And it was a pretty similar case: get him to safety, don’t get killed, if captured, use EC2749. Like you.”

“What happened?” Sammy asks gently.

“I didn’t have to use the Escape Clause, if that’s what you’re asking,” Ben says. “I didn’t have the chance. We got separated… it was my fault. I thought that I could leave him alone, with enemies confirmed in the area, while I scouted around for an escape route… and I found one. But… when I got back to Tim… it was just in time to see an SI agent put a bullet in his skull.”

“Oh,” Sammy murmurs.

“I just left him,” Ben says, grief welling unbidden at the back of his throat. “It’s what I was supposed to do, but… I shouldn’t have. I should’ve died with my client, and the only reason I didn’t isn’t because I was good at my job, but because I was stupid. I knew that I was supposed to stay with them at all times, to finish the job, but I thought I knew better than protocol. And I screwed up, and someone died because of that.”

“It’s not your fault, Ben.”

“It is, but thanks,” Ben says. His eyes are still closed.

Sammy is quiet. Ben doesn’t know for how long. Time is hard to keep track of.

“Hey, Ben?” Sammy says suddenly.

“Mmm?”

“Can you come here a moment?”

Sammy sounds too calm. Ben wants to open his eyes and see what’s wrong, but that feels like a lot of work, and he’s kind of comfortable with his head tipped back against the wall. His arm has gone pleasantly numb, so that’s not bothering him anymore. He kind of wants to take a nap. That would be a good idea, probably.

Ben feels himself about to drop off, but then Sammy’s hand is on his shoulder.

“Ben, open your eyes for me.”

Ben doesn’t want to.

“Ben, I’m serious,” Sammy says, and his voice is growing more concerned, so Ben manages to tip his head to the side and blink up at Sammy lazily. Sammy’s face is kinda swimmy. It looks funny.

“You’re really pale,” Sammy tells him. His hand moves down Ben’s arm, then shoots away quickly. “Oh, fuck, Ben!”

“Huh?” Ben’s head lolls downward to see that Sammy’s hand is dyed red. “Oh. Sorry.”

“Why hasn’t the bleeding stopped?” Sammy gingerly unwraps the tie from around Ben’s bicep and swears violently. “Shit. I should have guessed. I think… yeah, that’s probably an artery. Fuck. Jesus, Ben, why didn’t you say anything?”

“Artery?” That’s a big word. “Is that bad?”

“Kinda bad, yeah, buddy.” The tie is back, and suddenly it’s tied so tightly around his arm that Ben jolts. “Sorry. I didn’t want to tourniquet it, but I’m afraid that you’re gonna pass out on me if I don’t.”

“Ow,” Ben mutters.

“We gotta get you out of here,” Sammy says.

Ben opens his eyes out of sheer offense. “’M the agent.”

Sammy smiles, but it’s a lot firmer than any of the other smiles that Ben has seen from him. “Sorry, I’m probably going to steal your thunder on this one.” Sammy glances up at the camera and says, “I’m gonna take a piss.”

“What?” Ben says. It doesn’t seem like a very opportune time.

He watches as Sammy skirts around to the corner that the camera is in; the blind spot. Instead of relieving himself, Sammy instead stands on his tiptoes, flicking at his fingernail. Something small and metallic pops out, and Sammy uses it to unscrew the side of the camera. He pulls a couple of wires, snaps them, and ties them together, then comes back to Ben.

“I froze the camera,” he says. “We’ve got about ten minutes before they realize that I haven’t stopped peeing.”

“You hacked the camera,” Ben says slowly, as Sammy reaches into his boot and pulls out a pocket knife. “You have a _knife_?”

“Jack likes it when I’m prepared,” Sammy explains.

“They didn’t search you?” Ben complains.

“Must not have thought I was important or capable,” Sammy teases. “Really, you were just a distraction.”

Ben’s muddled brain tries to work out how offended he should be by that while Sammy kneels by the door. He runs his hand near the frame, muttering to himself, then firmly wedges the knife blade behind a small square of paneling, prying it free. There’s a jumble of wires, and Sammy expertly grabs them, cutting and twisting until there’s a frying sound. Sammy jumps back, grabs Ben, and yanks him away from the wall just as electricity sparks along the metal, so strong that Ben can actually see the tendrils of lightning racing across the walls.

Sammy whistles. “That is a strong current.”

As quickly as it began, there’s a popping sound, and the electricity crackles out, only to be replaced by smoke pouring out of the panel that Sammy had been messing with.

“Did you set it on _fire_?”

“Yup.” Sammy sounds proud of himself. “It’ll provide us some good smoke cover. Now, let’s get you out of here.”

Ben makes a sound of agreement, but his legs don’t want to cooperate. Sammy grabs his good arm, hoisting him up so that Ben is draped over his shoulder. 

Ben looks down. His toes are barely brushing the ground.

“Why’re you tall?” he asks.

“Why are you so short?” Sammy counters. He slides his knife into his waistband, and pulls Ben to the door. He kicks it, and it slides open.

“They’re dumb,” Ben says, and snorts.

“It’s a little easy, yeah,” Sammy says, “But I’m not gonna look a gift horse in the mouth.”

He’s pretty much carrying Ben at this point, and the smoke is now billowing into the hallway, so Ben let’s Sammy direct them through the hallways of the Science Institute. He doesn’t ask how Sammy knows the way. He just trusts him.

“Shit,” Sammy says. Ben raises his head to see that there’s a large metal door in front of them. There’s a panel next to it that looks as though it unlocks when given DNA authorization, which neither he nor Sammy has.

“Hack?” Ben asks. Words are becoming increasingly hard to get out.

“Yeah,” Sammy says. “Can you stand?”

Ben’s head flops forward. It’s supposed to be a yes, and Sammy takes it as one. He leans Ben up against the wall next to the panel. Ben curls in on his arm, and focuses on staying upright. Sweat beads on the back of his neck.

Sammy is busy examining the locking mechanism on the door. “Got it.” He flips up the tool underneath his fingernail again and gingerly unscrews the side of the panel.

Ben glances back down the hallway. Everything is kind of out of focus, but coming around the corner, he sees something that looks suspiciously like the front of a helmet.

He snatches Sammy’s knife, flips it in his fingers, and throws.

The blade sinks into the throat of the man that just stepped around the corner, who drops his AK-47 and sinks to the ground with a gurgle. Sammy whirls around at the sound, staring at the downed man with wide eyes.

“Shit,” he says.

“There’ll be more,” Ben gasps. He straightens with a groan. He feels blood drip off his fingers. “Keep working on the door.”

“Ben—”

“Keep working!”

Ben doesn’t wait for Sammy to answer. He staggers forward, bends down to grab the dead man’s gun, and slides to press himself against the wall so that he can see anyone right before they come around the corner. His arm screams as he hoists the rifle, and his other hand shakes on the barrel as he aims toward the empty space. He hates heavy artillery.

He swallows and exhales. His vision has turned to crap at this point, but his ears still work, and as soon as he hears footsteps in the hallway, he’s pulling the trigger.

There’s a cry, indicating that he’s hit someone, but there’s also other sets of footsteps, coming at them faster now that they know there’s a distinctive threat.

Ben fires again, and again. In return, there’s another shot, and his instinctively moves his head to the side, just as a bullet whizzes by his ear and lodges in the wall. Ben pulls the trigger three more times in quick succession and is rewarding with the sound of three falling bodies, but then there’s a hot flash at his temple, and he feels the skin near his right eye rip open as a bullet grazes it. Blood wells up at the cut, cutting down his face in a thick sheet. He fires.

“Ben!” Sammy yells. Ben hears the control panel finally give, and the door slides open. He quickly spreads a stream of bullets across the hallway and throws the gun, giving himself about five seconds as the Science Institute goons take cover and prepare to return fire.

There’s enough adrenaline pumping through him that he’s able to rip Sammy’s knife out of the guy’s throat before he’s running for the door. He wipes the blood out of his eyes with his forearm, not that it makes much difference.

Sammy’s standing in the doorway, looking frantic. Ben stumbles as he reaches him, and Sammy grabs him around the waist, urging him forward as the door slides shut behind them.

“It won’t slow them down for long,” Sammy warns as they run toward the metal fence that surrounds the Institute.

Ben just gasps. Adrenaline can only do so much. His vision is tunneling now, and he feels like his head is a balloon, all light and floaty.

They stop at the fence. It’s about twelve feet high, but luckily there aren’t any coils at the top that signify it’s an electric fence.

Sammy looks up, just as an alarm starts blaring. “Fucking hell.”

“Go,” Ben manages, “I can… give you some time, maybe.”

“Ben, you’re coming with me.”

“I can’t climb.” Talking past the anxiety in his throat is hard, but Ben does it anyway. “Besides, this is my job. You have to go. Get out of here. Find Jack.”

Sammy considers the fence again, and shakes his head. “I’m not leaving.”

“Sammy,” Ben says, “I’ll be fine.”

“No,” Sammy says, “You won’t. They’ll either shoot you on sight, or throw you back in a cell again, and you’re barely on your feet as it is.”

Ben feels himself sway. “And I’m not going to hold you back. They might not kill you, Sammy, but I don’t think they have any qualms about roughing you up.”

“Ben—”

“ _Go_.”

Ben takes three staggering steps forward, fully prepared to run in the opposite direction, when the squeal of brakes behind him makes him turn around.

A jeep with tinted windows jerks to a stop just outside the fence. The passenger door opens and a tall man with dark skin leaps out, a pair of bolt cutters in his hands.

“Jack!” Sammy’s voice sounds like molten gold.

Jack smiles at him. “Hey, babe.” He kneels down next to the fence and begins snapping the chain links.

“What are you doing here?”

“Breaking you out, of course,” Jack says. As he cuts, Sammy pulls the fence inward, creating a gap big enough for him to squeeze through.

Ben staggers back over to Sammy, just as a floodlight hits them. Sammy freezes, and Jack cuts through the final piece of metal.

“Come on!”

“Ben, you first,” Sammy says, and Ben’s too tired to protest. He gets on his hands and knees, laboriously maneuvering his body through the hold. Jack grabs his arm on the other side and hauls him through, then reaches back in for Sammy.

“Hi,” he says.

Sammy grins, kissing Jack as he climbs through. “Hi, yourself.”

“Let’s go!” a woman’s voice calls from the Jeep.

“Pippa!” Sammy exclaims as he opens the door for Ben. Ben shoves himself into the vehicle, scooting to the far side. Sammy and Jack both climb in and shut the doors, just as Pippa hits the gas, the jeep screeching away.

The lights of the Science Institute and the blaring alarm begin to fade into the background. Jack looks over the seat back, his eyes wide and his smile excited.

“I’m so glad to see you,” Sammy says, leaning forward and grabbing Jack by the back of the neck. He pulls him in.

“Can we keep the PDA to a minimum until we’re home free?” Pippa gripes, swinging the car around a bend. Ben flops into Sammy’s side.

Jack pulls away, looking at Ben. “Who’s your friend?”

“This is Ben,” Sammy says.

“Is he okay?” Jack’s voice is warm, Ben think, and very nice to listen to.

“Technically, no,” Sammy says, “But he’s hanging in there. Right, Ben?” A pause. “Ben?”

Ben wants to say something back, preferably something suave and secret agent-y, but instead, he feels the string tethering himself to consciousness fraying to the point of no return.

“That’s a lot of blood,” the warm voice says.

“Ben, buddy, come on.” Another voice that makes Ben want to smile comes close to his ear. “I need you to stay awake, okay?”

“Pippa…”

“I’m going!”

“Ben…”

Ben’s cold. He fades out to the rumble of the car engine beneath him.

* * *

He wakes again.

“Ben! Thank God!”

Sammy’s face next to him. He feels someone’s arms, strong and firm, beneath his shoulders and knees. He’s being carried.

“Get him inside,” a woman’s voice says. “I’ll get the med kit.”

Sammy disappears. Ben is set down on something hard. He can’t feel his left arm.

“Nice tourniquet,” someone says.

Sammy reappears. He’s squeezing Ben’s hand.

“Save him,” he says.

Ben goes under again.

* * *

The second time he wakes, someone is screaming.

“Shit, shit!” the woman swears. “Jack, get some more towels.”

“Ben, I’m sorry!” Sammy’s grip is tight and Ben tries to focus on that, even though there’s a tearing feeling in his arm, like something is rooting around inside.

He gasps for breath, and the screaming stops.

“Fuck!” the woman says, and then: “Got it!”

Something is yanked free from his arm, tearing the muscle in his bicep, and the lights go out again.

* * *

Finally, when his eyes slip open, things are quiet.

Ben blinks. He’s lying on his back, staring at a wooden ceiling. It’s dimly lit, and he can feel a blanket covering him up to his chest.

“Hey.”

Ben tips his head to the side to see Sammy sitting next to him. He’s got a sheaf of papers that he’s leafing through. He’s wearing a white t-shirt, hair up in a bun. There are scratches on his face from climbing through the fence, and bags underneath his eyes, but he’s smiling.

“Hey,” Ben croaks. He frowns, trying to work some moisture back into his mouth. “What’s going on?”

“We made it,” Sammy tells him, setting the papers down on his lap.

“Oh,” Ben murmurs, “Good.”

“We did almost lose you,” Sammy says. “But Pippa’s good a field medicine, and she patched you up pretty well. The blood loss is kind of an issue, because we don’t have anything to give you a transfusion, which is probably why you feel so bad.”

Ben only manages to raise an eyebrow.

“For a small guy, you sure can bleed a lot.” Jack steps into the room, smiling at Ben warmly. He comes up behind Sammy and leans forward, wrapping his arms around Sammy’s shoulders. “Thank you for keeping him safe.”

“No problem,” Ben breathes. He yawns. “Are we okay?”

“You mean safe?” Sammy asks. “Yeah. We are. You can go back to sleep.”

“Mm,” Ben says.

He keeps his eyes open long enough to see Jack place a kiss in Sammy’s hair, and for Sammy to smile at him like he’s a southern breeze.

It’s good. They’re safe.

It’s good.

**Author's Note:**

> We're planning for a trilogy, but we'll see!


End file.
